


Band-Aids and Idiots

by writingandchocolatemilk



Series: DenNor Oneshots [5]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Human, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-24
Updated: 2016-11-24
Packaged: 2018-09-02 00:14:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8643739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingandchocolatemilk/pseuds/writingandchocolatemilk
Summary: "I'm Abel," he chirped, holding out his hand.Lukas looked at the hand. "Lukas."Abel nodded. "Hey, I punch people for fun. You wanna' watch?"





	

**Author's Note:**

> **Boxer AU.**
> 
>  
> 
> **Abel is Denmark.**

"Hey there."

Lukas didn't even look up from his phone.

The blond stammered for a second. "I, uh, well, I've just seen you around here before. You know, it's weird, because it's not very often that you see someone here, reading your phone, not getting plastered. And I just thought it was unique. Not like other guys here."

Lukas skipped switched apps.

"I'll buy you a drink, if you want. Do you… drink?"

"Wouldn't come to a bar if I didn't drink."

"Ah, you do speak! See, was that so hard?"

Lukas dragged his eyes up. The blond grinned—he looked like he hadn't touched a brush in years. He had a split lip, and his eyebrow had a bandage over it, black with dried blood. The guy's eyes widened.

Lukas looked back down at his phone.

"Should I guess?"

Lukas looked back up.

The guy's eyebrows drew together, and he sat down next to Lukas, rested his chin in his hand. "Alright, so I'm guessing you don't like beer."

Lukas blinked.

"Am I right? I bet you I'm right. So, I'm going to take a guess that you like straight up vodka. Or tequila. Something that's right to the point, am I right?' The guy nodded. "Hm? If I order us a round of shots, will you take them with me?" The guy waved over the bartender. "Two shots of tequila and vodka, barkeep!"

The guy pushed a shot over to Lukas.

"What do you say? Just one?" He smiled, tilted his head like a dog.

Lukas threw his phone on the counter and took a shot of vodka. The guy did the same.

"I'm Abel," he chirped, holding out his hand.

Lukas looked at the hand. "Lukas."

Abel nodded. "Hey, I punch people for fun. You wanna' watch?"

 

* * *

 

Abel hopped in front of him, kicking at pebbles and chunks of snow. Lukas trudged beside him, hands in his pockets.

"For fun?"

Abel whirled around, walking backwards and grinning. "Hell yeah, baby!" He shadow boxed, ducking under an imaginary punch, nearly fell on his ass passing over an ice patch. "I'm one of the best ones there!"

"This how you always pick up men?"

Abel laughed. "I'm not picking you up! I just thought, since you're always sitting alone, you'd like to see something interesting. Why are you always there, anyways?"

"Why are you stalking me?"

Abel raised his hands. "Hey, now, I'm just trying to be friendly! I feel like you'd have better things to do than hang around that bar."

"My brother is hanging out with his friends."

Abel perked. "You have a brother? I've always wanted a brother. What's his name? How old is he? Does he look like you?"

"Emil. Fifteen." Lukas flicked through his phone. "This is him."

Abel squinted. "He's cute! Like you!"

Lukas locked his phone.

Abel nodded. "So, why don't you hang out with your brother and his friends?"

Lukas kept walking.

"I've always wanted a big family. Lots of brothers and sisters. And kids, I guess." Abel pointed. "See that warehouse thing? That's where we're going. Don't be afraid to shove someone if they're a dick."

"'m not."

It stank of sweat and sawdust—a spot in the middle of the concrete floor covered in wood shavings. Everyone gathered around either the center or a keg in the corner. Abel followed behind Lukas.

"It's just a small thing. It's not by weight or anything, not like the professional rings. You go to the rink and anyone who wants to fight you fights you. I—"

"Abel!" A man taller than even Abel stepped in front of them.

Abel's stood taller and stepped next to Lukas. "Ivan."

"Who is your friends. Hello, I'm Ivan." He held his hands out, and it received the same treatment Abel's did. "Ah, he is not very polite, Abel."

Abel shrugged. "He's my guest."

Ivan smiled. "Is he going to watch me beat you into the ground again?" He gestured at Abel's face. "I did that to him the other night."

Abel crossed his arms. "I let him do it, Lukas."

"Lukas," Ivan said brightly. "I like that name."

"Don't like Russians," Lukas said.

"Very rude," Ivan said to Abel. "We should be getting the next fight, no?"

Abel crossed his arms and nodded. Ivan smiled and trotted away, grabbing two cups and draining them, grabbing another, draining that one. He was big.

"Let him beat you in the ground," Lukas muttered.

The grin reappeared. "I did! I was drunk, and I had already fought some people, and he got the better of me, what can I say? I'm honest, but not he's the one who's face is going to—"

"Do you get hurt?"

"Me? Or… I mean, yeah, some people." Abel gestured. "We get drunk and don't pay attention, but usually someone will step in—"

"Usually."

Abel smiled and touched Lukas' elbow. "Grab a drink. This is supposed to be fun!"

"Køhler!"

Abel smiled. "That's me." He danced backwards, pointing at Lukas. "Grab a drink! I'll be fine!"

Lukas shoved himself through the crowd, stepping on toes. Abel was stretching out his arms, bouncing from foot to foot. He had taken his shirt of at some point, and his muscled moved pleasantly underneath his skin. Ivan, meanwhile, was more like a bear than a bodybuilder.

Abel waved at Lukas.

Lukas had no idea when the fight started, but suddenly both men's fists were up, and they were circling each other. There were a few claps from the audience.

"Fuck him up, Ivan!

Ivan smiled.

Abel darted forward, shooting for the lower body. Ivan let the punches hit—the sound of skin slapping on skin, and Lukas got the impression that those punches hadn't phased Ivan.

Ivan gave Abel a shove, and the man danced back.

Abel came in again, two lower body punches, and then one aiming for Ivan's head. He let the first two hit, kept his arms up defending his head.

Ivan's fist flew out so fast, just as Abel's were retreating. Lukas could  _hear_  the fist hit Abel's jaw, the crack of knuckles on bone.

Abel danced back again, shaking his head. Lukas could see his legs tremble.

Ivan smiled.

Ivan stepped forward, and Abel came forward to meet him. Abel slammed his fists into Ivan's stomach, again and again. Ivan kept his hands up around his head, then again, so fast, his fist shot out towards Abel's head.

But Abel was ready this time. Back his arms went, protecting his face. Then, he was back again, fists into Ivan's stomach.

Ivan stepped back, and his arms came lower to protect himself. Then, it was Abel's turn to crack his fist into Ivan's mouth.

Ivan tried to follow up Abel's punch with his own, but Abel was already dancing away.

Ivan wasn't smiling anymore.

Abel came forward again, aiming low, but Ivan was expecting it. A fantastic left hook, Abel's unprotected side. Lukas could see the punch pushing Abel  _down_.

Abel stumbled, and Ivan was there again, another punch as Abel's hands went out to stable himself.

And then Abel was on the ground.

And then Ivan  _kicked_  him. Lukas could hear the breath wheeze out of Abel's lungs.

"Hey," Lukas said. Loud. He surprised himself.

Abel tried to lift himself up, but Ivan kicked out his hands from underneath him. Abel fell back onto the sawdust.

Lukas walked forward into the rink. "You're done," he said to Ivan.

Ivan's eyes flicked to him, and he loomed over Lukas. Then, he shrugged, smiled, and nodded. "Very well." He turned and walked back through the crowd.

Abel coughed. Lukas crouched down beside him.

"Usually?"

Abel laughed, the air leaving his mouth and lungs wetly. "Thank you."

Lukas grabbed Abel's shoulder and arm and hauled him up, made sure he could stand on his feet before he took his hands away. But he found his hands back there as they walked away from the ring.

"Did it work?" Abel asked.

Lukas raised an eyebrow.

"Did watching me punch people for fun impress you?" Abel coughed. "Just wondering. I didn't win, but I thought I held my own pretty well. I punched him. For fun."

"You're a fucking idiot."

Abel hung his head.

 

* * *

 

Lukas opened his apartment door and led Abel through. It was dark, and Emil had probably gone to sleep hours ago. Abel rubbed his arms, shivering, looking around like a toddler in a museum.

"Wow, this is pretty swanky!"

Lukas grabbed his elbow and led him into the bathroom. "You live in a cardboard box?"

"Not really." Abel scratched the back of his head. "I live in my van."

"'Course." Lukas sat Abel down on the toilet. "Your face is fucked."

Lukas dug through the mirror cabinet.

"So, can I meet Emil? That's his name, right?" Abel stood a little, looking out the bathroom door. "I wouldn't punch his face for fun, that's for sure. Can I?"

Lukas kicked the bathroom door shut. "No."

"Please?"

Lukas found the hydroperoxide, dumping it on a facecloth. He wiped away the blood from Abel's cuts, inspecting the damage. It wasn't great—but none of it need stitches. Abel winced as Lukas washed.

"Thank you," Abel said.

Lukas threw the facecloth in the sink and grabbed a box of Band-Aids.

"I'm serious." Abel smiled quickly at him. "You didn't have to bring me to your house to clean me up—you didn't even have to come with me to the sketchiest invitation of a date in the world. But you did. Thank you."

Lukas ripped open a Band-Aid. "Wasn't a date."

"Oh. Are you sure?"

Lukas placed the Band-Aid over Abel's mouth. "You talk too loud."

Abel grinned.


End file.
